Hyne Mass
by morbid333
Summary: It's that time of year again. Families gathering together to drink themselves stupid, eat themselves sick, exchange meaningless gifts, and lower their intelligence in religious mass. One great Materialistic, drunken stupor. Oh, how Squall hated this day.
1. Hyne Mass part one

**Hyne Mass**

**Author's Notes: **Since I can't write my Angel of Decadence Christmas Special just yet, here's something else I came up with. Now, we all know that the Final Fantasy VIII world doesn't recognize Christianity, so let us indulge ourselves in Balamb Garden's religious celebration instead. Merry Hyne Mass Day, everyone. Work hard, Study hard, Play hard.

**Disclaimer: **All names, places, and characters relating to Final Fantasy VIII belong to Square Enix. The plot and original characters belong to me. Since I don't have time to do the usual error-checking process, The 666th Necrophiliac will be beta reading this story.

**Description:** It's that time of year again. Families gathering together to drink themselves stupid, eat themselves sick, exchange meaningless gifts, and lower their intelligence in religious mass. One great Materialistic, drunken stupor. Oh, how Squall hated this day.

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><p>She sat on the side of the bunk, her legs swinging innocently beneath her, running under the steel metal frame of the room's single bed. Looking around, she couldn't help but notice how remarkably larger this room was compared to her own. Perhaps this was a perk of being a SeeD.<p>

Looking around, she also noticed how spotlessly clean the room was. Not a single thing out of place. Not even a stray hair or dust particle littered this den of efficiency. Books and magazines stood to attention on their shelf. Desk was clear, free of stain and clutter. The computer terminal likewise, was clean and currently switched off, as it had been every time she'd seen it.

The white walls; the white ceiling; the sterilized, grey carpeted floor. The chairs, the weapons that lay in their protective cases. Even the bed on which she sat, made up with blankets tucked tightly in with unmistakable precision.

Everything about this place screamed military. It reminded the girl of home. It reminded her of her father. Nobody would have guessed, had they not known better, that this was in actuality, the bedroom of a mere seventeen year old boy.

Rinoa's room currently lay in a shamble. It was smaller, and she had acquired many more possessions than seemed to be in here. How she'd accrued them in such a short span of time was a complete mystery, but there they were, taking up space. Making a mess. The girl would be embarrassed, but Garden's headmaster had given her a single Dorm in the guest wing. It was a single room, like this one, only smaller. It wasn't as though anyone would see it. Aside from her best friend, of course. And Selphie had never said anything about the clutter. After all, _her_ room was no better.

Rinoa looked to the brunet, watching as he paced up and down the room.

"You know," she stated off-handedly, "You're going to wear the carpet out." Almost instantly, the young man stopped and turned to face her, frowning slightly. "And if you keep looking at me like that, you're going to get wrinkles." The young man paused for a moment before finally speaking a single word.

"Whatever." Rinoa's lip curled upward.

"You don't want to ruin that forehead of yours, do you?"

"Ha ha," Squall replied sourly.

"Yikes… forehead jokes not so funny, got it," the girl replied, making a mental note. Was the scar adorning the brunet's face a touchy subject?

The girl's eyes softened. Of course it was. It must have been painful, humiliating. How could she have been so stupid? Sure, Seifer was able to joke about his similar mark, but Squall and Seifer were very different. Two completely different people. That was why…

Rinoa sighed, releasing her pent up breath.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

If Squall had heard her apology, he didn't respond. He just continued pacing, that same look of utter bitterness poisoning his neigh unspoiled features.

"Uh… something wrong?" Squall shot a glare at her. Blanching slightly under the intense gaze, Rinoa pushed further. "What's with you today? You're in a worse mood than usual. Which is saying a lot," she mumbled under her breath.

"Whatever."

"Here we go," Rinoa breathed, rolling her eyes. "What's your problem, anyway?"

"You mean other than you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You keep bothering me. Everywhere I look, you're there. As if this day weren't bad enough, how am I supposed to think strait with you sitting on my bed?"

"Hey! A lot of guys would kill to have me on their bed."

"What-"

"Don't say it," Rinoa cut the brunet off. "What's your problem today, anyway?"

"Take a look at the calendar," the brunette replied.

Rinoa sighed.

"I know what day it is, Squall. I'm not completely clueless. I want to know why you seem to hate it. This is supposed to be a happy day, right? A day where people can forget their differences and celebrate. This celebration is in remembrance of the day that mankind banded together against a tyrant that would have seen us all dead."

"I know the story, I just don't believe it."

"You… don't believe in Hyne?"

"Should I?"

"well, yeah." Squall sneered.

"Nice argument," he replied.

"There's proof of Hyne throughout history! Look at the Sorceress! Look at Adel, and Edea. You've fought a sorceress! You use magic on a daily basis. How can you not believe in it?"

"I have never once used magic," Squall retorted.

"But, I've seen you."

"You've seen me use para-magic. An invention of Dr Odine. A product of science."

"Which he developed by studying a sorceress!"

"So what? I get my magic from guardian forces and monsters, from the moon. Last time I checked the mythology, Hyne wasn't from Lunar World."

"No, he was from this planet, like the sorceress. Like Us. He made us!"

"There has never once been proof of any connection between Hyne and the sorceress."

"What are you talking about? Where do you think magic came from?"

"There are draw-points all over the world, Rinoa. Who knows where they came from? Magical energy has always been a part of this world. Certain people are capable of utilizing it. These people are known as the Sorceress. None of that has anything to do with any kind of god."

"But that's…" Rinoa sighed in exasperation. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"I'd rather that than gullible… It doesn't matter. This day has nothing to do with any of that anyway."

"What do you mean? The celebration is about togetherness, right? Families get together. Everyone gets a holiday."

"Maybe in Timber, but that's not the way things work here."

"Huh? It's not?" Squall shook his head.

"This place is first and foremost a school. Not exactly a place for families."

"So then, what do you guys do?"

"We, as in the majority of the residents here, attend a religious mass run by the head of the Zealot committee. It's a tediousness I'd rather not discuss."

"Uh, the majority?"

"Anyone that has nothing better to do."

"I see… that's it then? No dinner? No gifts?" Squall raised an eyebrow at the remark. Was the girl before him… disappointed?

"After we cleanse our souls and beg forgiveness for our sins, the Zealot committee pass their judgment on us. We grovel at their pedestal-planted feet, work our asses to the grindstone to repurify ourselves, granting us the moral gratification that we so desire… then we celebrate by drinking ourselves to retardation at the after party. Honestly, the entire farce is pathetic." Throughout the brunet's fuming rant, Rinoa noticed that one word in particular jumped right out at her. Her lips suddenly jerked upward.

"After party?" Perhaps this day would turn out to be fun after all. The look on Squall's face was not encouraging. That was always a good sign.

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><p><strong>That's it for now. I did intend to upload the entire thing as a one-shot, but it grew too big and I've run out of time. I began too late. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, I'll try for daily updates with this story. I think Angel of Decadence started out like that… I have a few chapters drafted, so I'll update this now and try for the second tomorrow, if I have time. I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon to help out at my grandmother's house for Christmas. I don't know the plan after that. I'll probably be back in the evening or night of the 25<strong>**th**** or 26****th****.**

**For those of you that read Trial of the Flesh, I have a sequel drafted. It grew longer than expected, so I've split it in two. I'll proof read and post that after I finish this, then I'll finish the in-progress chapters I have of Feeling Filthy and The Unwanted. Then, when I get those done, I'll be able to get back to my usual stuff, including Daddy's disappointment and two new Star Wars stories.**


	2. Hyne Mass part two

**Hyne Mass**

**Author's Notes: ** Just a fair word of warning: The chapters from Squall's point of view will be in present tense-first person perspective. My first time writing in first person since school, tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer: **Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Square Enix. Beta'd by The 666th Necrophiliac.

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><p>Hynedamnit! Why does it have to go like this? On today of all days. Hyne Mass day. The worst day in the history of calendar's concoction. Pathetic, worthless, unnecessary.<p>

This meaningless day. Why do people care? Why do they make such a big deal out of this? It's a pointless holiday celebrating a long unnecessary religion that no longer truly exists.

A happy day? The day that mankind rose up against their god. They took their treasonous swords and turned upon their so-called creator. Perhaps he existed. Perhaps he truly deserved his fate, but for humankind to turn on the one to call himself their deity, and then celebrate. To make an annual holiday, to make a special day of it. It merely shows the ugly nature of humans.

To make a day of it so that we never forget, that's one thing, but this is not a case in which the end justifies the means. To dance on his grave, to celebrate his demise. To drink, and feast, and blow large, absurd amounts of money for no reason. What is the point? Someone, anyone, tell me. Clue me in. Let me in on the joke for once!

But they won't. They never do, and they never will.

I raise my hand up to my face. The cooling sensation feels good against the skin of my forehead, but I don't allow the reprieve to last. Soon the calloused white skin is sliding down my face.

I don't understand. Why do they care so much? What do they see in this putrid day?

Rinoa… Why is she so obsessed? What is it about this day that fills her with childlike joy? I saw it. The look in her eyes. A twinkling. A childish longing for fun and games. I saw it. I smothered it. I killed it. I witnessed it die. A sigh escapes my lips, and before I know it, I find myself seated on the bunk, in the same place Rinoa had been only minutes ago, before she'd left. Before I'd driven her out.

That is done. It's in the past. There's nothing I can do about it now. The question bothering me now is: Why do I care? It bothers me that I may have hurt her, but it bothers me more that it bothers me.

I mentally sigh. What is going on with me? I've never given this a second thought before now. Of course, I've never had someone bothering me before. Not the way she does.

Following me, badgering me, bothering me. How many times have I woken to her face? How many times has she invited herself into my room? How many times has she come in and sat herself down on my bed while I'm trying to work, or think. She breaks my concentration. I don't know why, I don't know how, but she does. She enters so quietly that I don't even notice. Rinoa, I've often caught her sitting on my bed, watching me. I can't work like that. I can't even think strait when I know she's watching me. When she's sitting in silence, looking so…

I shake the thought violently from its perch in my head.

Hyne Mass. That's what this was about. I… I almost feel bad. Why? It wasn't my fault. Why the hell should I feel guilty? She kept on talking to me about it, asking me about it. In the end, I just lost it. I snapped at her. That look in her eye. Did I upset her, or does she pity me? And why do I care?

I shake my head as the thoughts wash over me in an unyielding torrent.

I can't go on like this. These thoughts, these feelings. They threaten to overwhelm me completely. They'll drive me insane.


	3. Hyne Mass part three

**Hyne Mass**

**Author's Notes: **I said I was going to update this daily, but… I've been away longer than I thought. About two weeks in fact, or something. Anyway, I've still got a few chapters to up load, but I need to know if anyone's actually reading this. By which I mean, if I were to stop writing it, would it be missed. Maybe not a huge deal, but I need to know. If anyone is reading this, I'll continue writing it. If not, I'll put it on hold until next Christmas. If you want it to continue, say so in a review. Just a few words, even anonymous reviews will be accepted. It won't take more than a few minutes. If I receive no word either way, I will assume that there is no interest.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>Beta read by The 666th Necrophiliac<p>

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><p>Stepping foot into the hallway, Rinoa shook her head. That guy was impossible. She honestly didn't know why she bothered sometimes. She'd tried, she really had, but every time she attempted to bring Squall out, to encourage him, to help him, he always bit her head off. Even when she sat still and quiet, doing her very best not to disturb him, he always acted as though she were an unwanted houseguest squatting in his quarters. It was clear that he didn't want her silent company. She'd just about had it.<p>

"Hey," called out the familiar voice of Zell Dincht, the hyperactive brawler.

"Uh, hi," was Rinoa's flustered response.

"You came out of Squall's room without a scratch on you, impressive." Rinoa smiled at the joke. "No bruise, no black-eye, no nothin'. Dunno how you do it." As the blond fighter passed, Rinoa was alerted to the sound of laughter. Craning her neck, she noticed her friend, Selphie. The brunette who's spirit could launch a balloon. If only Squall could have learned a thing or two from this petite girl.

"That's not Squall's style, right Rinny? He's the emotionally abusive type." Rinoa smiled half-heartedly, but for the second time, she couldn't bring herself to laugh at her friend's joke. "What's wrong?" the brunette asked, as if sensing a problem within Rinoa's spirit.

"I'm fed up."

"With what?"

"Old _scrooge_ in there," Rinoa loudly complained. "He's in a worse mood that usual today. I can't believe it. I mean, it's Hyne Mass. He should be happy on this one day, at least."

"Yeah, he gets like that. Hyne Mass isn't really his thing. It's not a holiday for brooders."

"Yeah well, I'm about ready to give up on him." Selphie's jade eyes widened She took hold of her friends hand, and without so much as a word of explanation, dragged her off down the hall, presumably to her own single Dorm room.

Once there, the brunette flung her friend inside and closed the door, locking the two of them in together.

Rinoa lay on the bed where she'd landed, staring up at her friend with wide eyes, unable to speak. Unsure of what to think.

Slowly, Selphie approached, her eyes never leaving the confused Rinoa.

"You have to understand, Squall is touchy about Hyne Mass. It's a source of bitterness with him."

"Yeah, I noticed. Any idea why?"

"I think it's the commercialization. History tells us that this day, centuries ago, the people of the world fought against Hyne, their creator. Through bloody battle, we were liberated from our own god. The way we choose to celebrate this day is in reference to the great banquet that followed. The people gathered under the heretical priests who had unified them. After a ceremony performed by the priests, everybody gathered for a massive feast, visitors offering gifts to show their gratitude for their ally's comradeship in battle, and to show their appreciation for the feast itself. Over the years, things have become distorted. A great emphasis has been placed on materialism. Gifts and spending money have become more important than the feeling of closeness and brotherhood. Back then, there was a sacred bond that no longer exists today. For that reason, there are some people, such as Squall, who see this holiday as nothing but a sham." Selphie took a huge breath after finishing her informative speech.

"Was that a class project or something?"

"Junior Classmen, Grade three. I passed with flying colours."

"I'm surprised you remembered it all."

"Hey, I'm just that good." Rinoa smiled at the feigned display of arrogance.

"Still, I don't think that's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Squall told me he doesn't believe in Hyne."

"He doesn't," Selphie confirmed. "Squall believes that magic is a natural part of the world. That it always existed, like the monsters."

"I know, he told me. Squall seems pretty bitter about the holiday's basis…"

"Yeah, well, he would."

"Huh?" Rinoa asked, furrowing her brow in her confusion.

"Ungrateful hoards of people rising up to kill their creator, to whom they owe their lives? I'm not surprised that Squall has a problem with us celebrating that."

"How come?"

"Squall is an extremely loyal person."

"Unlike Seifer," Rinoa mused aloud.

"What was that?" Selphie asked.

"Oh, nothing… never mind. So Squall doesn't like our holiday… does he have to make it so personal? I don't need him bringing me down on today of all days."

"Don't be so hard on him," the brunette cautioned.

"He's a jerk!" Rinoa accused, eyes narrowing angrily.

"Take it easy. It's not that simple."

"Oh?"

"There's… more to it than that. On such a massive day of Celebration, it's hard on him, because it's the one day he least feels like celebrating."

"And Why's that?"

"The Hyne Mass has always marked a day of personal tragedy for Squall. Ever since he was young."

"Tragedy?"

"I… I shouldn't talk about it. Not to you."

"Why not?"

"It's personal. If Squall wants it discussed, he should be present." Rinoa turned away from the brunette. What was it? What was Selphie afraid to talk to her about? What didn't Squall want them to discuss behind his back?

"Tell me," Rinoa pleaded. I need to know. Please." With a sigh, Selphie easily gave in.

"Okay, but only because we're friends. And only because I know you won't go talking about it to anyone outside of us six… _right?_" By the six of them, Rinoa knew that Selphie was referring to their friends. The SeeDs who'd been dispatched to Timber, and Irvine, the Sharpshooter from Galbadia Garden. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, okay?"

"Okay," Rinoa agreed. "I promise."


	4. Hyne Mass part four

**Hyne Mass  
>part four<strong>

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the delay.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>Beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

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><p>The Balamb Garden Cafeteria. Usually buzzing with activity. Today is no exception. People eating, drinking, talking, playing cards. This is the usual hangout spot. Well, this and the Quad, but the Cafeteria seems more popular for some reason. I don't know why.<p>

Today, various students are busy getting the place ready for the event tonight. It's usually a joint project run by the Zealot and Festival Committees. Perhaps coming here was a bad idea. I'm bound to run into Selphie sooner or later.

I should leave. I get up from my table, leaving behind the unwanted remains of my tasteless, unnutritious breakfast. The Cafeteria workers aren't even trying anymore, or perhaps it's the Master's fault, or whoever is in charge of budgeting within the Garden these days. It's clearly not the Shumi – Norg – for obvious reasons. Perhaps it's something I should look into, but for now, I head toward the exit.

The event tonight is really just another excuse for Garden's residents to party. Or rather, to get drunk and make complete fools out of themselves. Something I generally tend to avoid, if at all possible. It's a convenient arrangement, actually. I don't want to be there, and the others don't want me there.

Speaking of the others, I see a flash of yellow and cease my retreat, taking refuge behind the nearest column.

"Hey, can somebody lend a hand?"

I ignore the obnoxious cry for help as I raise the glass to my lips, allowing the cool water to wash over my tongue. Swallowing, I try not to notice as I see those two enter the room.

I refuse to let it bother me as they talk in loud voices. I try not to listen. I try to block out the sound of their speech, but I can't help from overhearing.

"This isn't going to work," One voice argues.

"C'mon, don't be so pessimistic. Have some faith."

"She's right. If anyone can do this, it's you."

"It's for his own good. Remember that."

Just what are they talking about? I honestly haven't a clue.

I try to ignore it as I take another drink. Perhaps I should move, but my body seems rather content to lean against the comfortable support column.

"He doesn't want to go. He's made that perfectly clear," the first voice bitterly retorts. "If he wants to spend the day alone, we should let him."

"We can't do that!" the second argues. "He's gotta grow up. We're not having him moping around all day."

"Sefie's right," the third chimed in. "If he doesn't want to go, then drag him, kicking and screaming, if need be."

"I… I don't know."

"Listen, I don't care if you have to tie him up and gag him. He's gonna have to sit through it like the rest of us. He can just grin and bear it. You can make it worth his while later, if you catch my drift."

"Irvy, don't get her excited," the second voice says in a warning tone.

"You two are complete perverts," the first accuses.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," the third defensively remarks.

I think this would be a good time for me to leave. I've heard enough. I'm leaving.

But when I try to leave, I hear my name being used. At the sound of that familiar word, my body freezes stiff. I can't move. I can't get away. I'm helpless, pathetic. No different from the prey of an anacondour.

"So, Squall's never attended one of these events?" asks the first voice.

"Never," the second voice confirms.

"So how does he know what goes on?"

"It's pretty average, you know?"

"I guess…"

"So, do you know what to expect?" a new, fourth voice asks. Quistis? When did she arrive? I didn't see her enter. I had no idea she was even in Garden today… thinking of it, I probably should have expected it.

"Well, I know that we all get together for a religious service hosted by the Zealot committee, and then…" The voice, clearly belonging to Rinoa begins, before trailing off. The reason for which is sure to be made clear. It's obvious that the others are laughing at her. I can't see their faces, but even _I _can tell. "What is it, what's so funny?"

I knew it.

"You've been talking to Squall, haven't you," Quistis deduces.

"How'd you know?"

"The Zealot label. Only Squall calls them that. It's his pet insult for Garden's religious community."

"So, what's the real name? The Hyne committee?"

"Not quite," Quistis answers.

"They call themselves the Religious Committee."

"Oh," Rinoa responds somewhat dully. "So what happens after those guys finish up? I mean back home, families would gather for a big dinner, and then we'd exchange gifts."

"Yeah, we don't do that here," Selphie's voice responded. "Some of us go home to our families, those of us whom have them. Most of us simply stay here. There's no banquet, but some of us do exchange gifts."

"In the evening," Quistis says, continuing Selphie's train of thought, "there's a big party with drinks and music."

"Where?" Rinoa asks.

"Right here. As you can see, we're currently in the process of getting things ready for tonight."

"Oh." I can't help but notice that Rinoa sounds disappointed. "This doesn't strike me as a good party venue… I guess Balambese parties are pretty tame, huh?"

"You'd be surprised." I don't need to see the smirk on Irvine's face as he says that. I can feel it.

This is it. This time, I'm really leaving. They're so busy talking about me; I doubt they'd notice me slipping away, even if they knew I was here. I step out and make for the exit, leaving my empty, disposable cup on a nearby table as I pass by.

"Squall!"

Damn.

I continue walking, pretending that I didn't hear. Even now, I know it's a pointless tactic doomed to failure.

"Hey, Squall." I feel their hands on me, one on each side. They grab my arms, restraining me. I cease my movements, trapped. I am beset on each side. Rinoa and Selphie… perfect.

"What is it?" I ask. Whatever this is, I may as well get it over with.

"Are you going to the Mass?" Selphie asks me.

"…no." both girls smirk at my anticipated response.

"Didn't think so." I sigh.

"What do you want?"

"We're you're escort, of course. Right Rinoa?"

"Uh-huh!" she confirms.

I inwardly shudder. It's never a good thing when these two get together. I still remember the horrors of last time. Horrors of which I refuse to go into. Suffice it to say that it involved birthday candles, ice-cream cake, and a chocobo – large, yellow bird-like steeds that populate the forests of the northern and southern-most areas of the world. The images still haunt me.

But what do they want now? They plan to be my chaperone? My escort? "For what?"

"Hyne Mass," Rinoa matter-of-factly responds.

"For today, of course," Selphie adds. I groan, my eyes rolling up into my head. "Don't go thinking you can weasel your way out of it."

"I managed it last year," I reply.

"True," Selphie considers, but Zell is an idiot, and I've learned from my mistakes. You can't get away from both Rinoa _and_ I, right?"

I don't want to admit it, but there may be some truth to what Selphie says. There's something about these two. I can't put my finger on it. They've both made me do things in the past that I wouldn't normally consider. I… I don't like it. Selphie alone is a difficult obstacle. Add Rinoa into the mix and I'm clearly fighting a losing battle.

"I'm not going," I tell them. It only seems fair to warn them. "You're wasting your time."

"Is that so?" the brunette asks. Something in her voice tells me that I won't like what is to come next. "We'll see about that."


	5. Hyne Mass part five

**Hyne Mass  
>Part five<strong>

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the long delay. Though I did write most of this chapter in one day. Yesterday, to be exact, assuming I get this up before today is out. Anyway, I got back into playing FF8. That's why I wasn't writing. It was an old save that I started back in the first half of last year. I gotta say, everyone that bashes Rinoa, saying she's useless… I think she must have been determined to prove them all wrong. She turned out to be one of, if not my most useful characters at the end of the game. She practically took down Red Giant, Ultimecia and Griever (tier 1, 2) all by herself, not to mention her stunning performance against Omega. She truly proved herself more than she ever has before. I think that deserves a reward of some kind, possibly along the lines of a one-shot. Ideas anyone?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final fantasy Viii… or Christmas  
>beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

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><p>The three of them entered the vibrantly decorated room. Looking around, Rinoa's eyes were left free to widen at the unexpected sight. This was… a regular classroom, wasn't it? It put the Timber chapel to shame. Even the brothers and sisters at the many churches in Deling City failed to come close to this level of detailed decorum. Galbadian houses of worship were always decorated for the occasion, but were either done up too much or too little. This was… just right.<p>

She couldn't contain her amazement, and with good reason.

Never before had she seen such a brilliant display. This was more than mere lights and decorations. It was a full-fledged transformation. This hall of learning had become something entirely different. It looked just like a church. No longer was it a classroom. In fact, had Rinoa not known better, she never would have guessed.

Her neck craned, head moved to-and-fro, up and down, side to side. She took in every last measure of the class' atmosphere. It was breath-taking.

Selphie smiled at her friend's reaction. "She's adorable, right?" the brunette asked, her question clearly aimed toward Squall, who merely shrugged.

"What's wrong, you not talking to us now Squall?" Rinoa asked, her tone playful.

The brunet wordlessly shrugged. They dragged him along. He was not here by choice. As far as he was concerned, he was here only to fill a seat, nothing else. He would not enjoy the ceremony, nor would he actively participate in any way. Sure, he'd endure it, as he had many other scenarios that these two girls had forced on him, but he wouldn't enjoy a single moment of it.

The wonderment shone in Rinoa's eyes. The sight, the gander, the spectacle. The people, the gathering. It was all so amazing. Was it so surprising that this should be the raven haired girl's most favourite time of the year?

"So you finally decided to show your face, Leonheart," spoke a most confrontational voice.

The three of them turned to face its source and were met with a cruel smirk, blonde hair, and blue eyes. He approached them wearing black leather pants similar to Squall's, and a skin-tight black shirt with a white collar, similar to one perhaps worn by a priest of Galbadia's main branch of religion. Over the rest of his ensemble, draped a long trench coat, heavy and black, save for the occasional splash of dark red down the sides under his arms.

"Who's this?" Rinoa asked.

"Garden's resident bigot," Squall replied sourly, "head of the Zealot committee, and lead zealot himself."

"You're too kind," the blond replied. "Call me Alex."

"So you're in charge of all this?" Rinoa asked.

"She's a smart one, isn't she," the blond remarked.

"Coming here was a mistake," Squall muttered under his breath.

"No, take a seat. Something must be done about the Commander's disgustingly sinful behaviour… I'm sure you know all about it," he added, directing his statement at Rinoa.

"Uh… not really," she admitted.

"Oh? Well, it's not my place to say. I wouldn't want to do anything to tarnish his reputation."

"Like hell," Squall retorted, much to Alex's amusement.

"It's always been my dream to convert one as cynical as the commander here. Imagine the person he could become."

"Yeah… I've always wondered what Squall would be like with a little hope in his heart," Rinoa agreed.

"You think about trying to change me," Squall calmly threatened the raven haired girl, "and I'll never speak to you again."

"Like that'd make any difference!" the local priest known as Alex remarked, practically bursting into laughter, but Rinoa was far from amused. She knew what this signified. Squall would say no more.

* * *

><p>The brunet sat still in his pew, silent, but defiantly rolling his eyes at every lie to spill from the rancid crap-hole in Alexander's narcissistic, self-righteous face. The young man reminded him so much of Seifer, but in a lot of ways, this arrogant blond was very much the greater of two vices.<p>

Though Seifer had perverted the justice system of Garden beyond repair, his Disciplinary committee still served a purpose. The zealots, on the other hand, were uncalled for and unnecessary. If anything, they were a counterproductive measure of bureaucracy that did more harm than good.

Garden was first and foremost a military organisation. The last thing they needed was a religious cult. Some of the Younger SeeD members spent much of their time praying for their souls. Time that could be better spent training their bodies or minds.

Those too weak to get through their existence without a spiritual crutch had no business living the life of a mercenary.

Squall was pulled from his negative musings by a gentle jab in the ribs.

"You're not even paying attention!" Selphie hissed under her breath. Squall narrowed his eyes in a half-hearted glare at the petite brunette, much to the amusement of Rinoa on his other side.

Squall couldn't really tell what the sermon was about. One lie had a tendency to run into another. All he knew was that he hated this, and that he was bored. They were all the same anyway. Lies, fantasy, tall tales, and some occasional exaggerated history. It was all so pointless.

Time passed unendurably slowly and Squall was forced to find methods with which to entertain himself. Twiddling his thumbs and fiddling with something soft on the seat beside him only went so far, and soon he had resorted to countering Alexander's comments with sarcastic remarks of his own.

So many of them were on the tip of his tongue. This Mass, this so-called religion, it would have been too easy to tear apart. It honestly was pathetic.

"Uh, Squall?" came the voice of Rinoa's whispered breath, "what are you doing?" the brunet looked to her, then down to the blue fabric in his hand. The cloth he'd been absent-mindedly fiddling between his fingers. The cloth of Rinoa's duster.

Squall turned his attention back to her face. Puzzled, yet amused, and somewhat embarrassed, if his comprehension of her expression was correct.

It probably wasn't. He was never right about these things, so why should this time be any different? He'd long since given up trying to figure out the inner-workings of his comrades. Quickly, he averted his gaze.

He had looked away, released the rough, yet surprisingly soft fabric, but still he could sense her gaze upon him. Squall inwardly sighed. She would read into this, he knew she would. He knew _her._

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Rinoa's eyes remained locked upon the brunet's profile. What was he thinking? What was going through Squall's mind at that very moment?

He'd laid hand on her duster, but what did that mean? Was he trying to tell her something, or –

"Did Squall just apologise?" Selphie asked, bewildered.

"Uh-huh," Rinoa replied, sounding quite out of it. Lost in thought, she didn't even react when her friend burst into laughter, only to be silenced by someone behind them.

"Shhhh!" came the disgruntled noise.

"Sorry," Selphie hastily apologised.

The preacher droned on and on about family, or unity, or war… something. Rinoa wasn't paying attention anymore. She had so much to think about. She had so many questions to ask, but who would tell her? Whom could she possibly ask?

Her chocolate eyes drifted back to Squall, gazing upon him from the side, though she looked hurriedly away when he turned to confront her.

Nope, one thing was for certain. She definitely wouldn't be getting any answers from Squall.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I'm not totally proud of this, or at least, not quite as proud as I should be. I wanted to go more in-depth with Squall's cynicism of the religion, but then I realised it would require me making up my own religion, writing an excerpt from a sermon for said fictional religion, and then coming up with points to criticise every written line. It was too much work, and I couldn't do it. Maybe I'll revise this chapter at a later date for Squall's proper reaction. I've left a space for it. It all depends on whether I can come up with anything; of course I'm open for suggestions.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, and sorry for changing the format, I had Squall in third person this chapter. Next chapter will either be Squall in forst person or Rinoa again... I don't know. I haven's planned it yet.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, and finally, points to those who noticed the unintentional homage to William Murderface.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>XXX<strong>


	6. Hyne Mass part six

**Hyne Mass  
>part six<strong>

**Author's Notes: **I decided to split this one… enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

* * *

><p>"Woo-hoo!" Selphie exclaimed with a little too much energy and enthusiasm, considering they'd just come from a religious sermon. "Now, time to hit the after par-tay!"<p>

"Yeah!" Rinoa agreed, though quite unable to capture her petite, brown haired friend's excitement.

"We can get pretty wild Rinny. You sure you're up for it?" Selphie cautioned.

"Count me in," Rinoa defiantly answered, causing Selphie's lips to curl upward.

"Count me out," Squall uttered, as though reminding the girls of his presence.

"Oh no you don't," they chorused in unison.

"You're not getting out of it that easy," Selphie warned.

"I went to the mass, isn't that enough? I'm going to sleep."

"At four PM?" Rinoa asked sceptically, checking her watch.

"I'll be in my Dorm then. I have maintenance to do." It was true. His Twin Lance didn't oil itself.

"It can wait a day," Rinoa said dismissively.

"What's it to you, anyway?"

"I've been appointed you're personal escort. My job's to make sure you don't weasel out and sneak away from the party… when does it start, anyway?" the raven haired girl asked.

"Immediately!" Selphie cried, as though she were the villain in a cheesy movie.

"Really?" Rinoa asked, disappointment teeming within her tone.

"It won't kick in for a couple of hours, but people start gathering as soon as the Mass lets out."

"And how long does this party last?"

"All night," Selphie shrugged. "There's no scheduled closing time. It ends when it ends."

"And I have to be there why?" Squall droned.

"We want you to open up more, Squall," Rinoa explained. "You have to socialise, party, you know… let loose and act like a teenager every once in a while."

"I'll pass." Suddenly, Squall found himself being held in a tight embrace, Rinoa's sharp, claw-like fingernails pointing into his throat like knives.

"Oh-no you don't," she dangerously purred in a tone Squall had never before heard her use. Her voice was deadly serious, as was the expression on her face. "You're going to this party. You're going to open up to me, and you're going to like it, got it?" Squall supposed this was what Rinoa meant by 'serious negotiations.'

"Whatever," he nonchalantly replied. The corner of Rinoa's lip suddenly pulled upward, and she grinned a vicious, twisted smirk that was foreign to her.

"You _will _open up to me tonight, and I _will_ make you. I don't care _how_ long it takes."

"Translation:" Squall retorted without any particular interest or trace of enthusiasm, "You're going to get me drunk."

Rinoa released the brunet and her usual free-spirited, warm, friendly smile returned. "Exactly," the girl replied. "Now… I'd better go and get changed. I don't even know what I'm going to wear. Decisions decisions…"

"Well, well, well," cooed the arrogant voice of Alex, the resident preacher. "How did you three enjoy my sermon? Was it accelerating? Fascinating? Insightful? Did it open your eyes? Commander?" His narrow blue eyes quickly dashed over to Rinoa. There was something about his slimy grin. It didn't sit right with the raven haired girl. She didn't like it. She didn't think she liked him. "How about you? It struck home, didn't it?"

"I…" Rinoa began, unsure of how to react. "It was perfect."

"You belonged to the Timber resistance, did you not? I'm sure my points on famine were very inspirational for you."

"Were they?" Rinoa asked, feeling confused. The young man's eyes were so hypnotising. It was difficult for her to concentrate.

"You're better off where you are. I'm certain. It's for the best. Guerrilla tactics are no place for a girl such as yourself. The people of Timber deserve much more than your squabbling street gangs can provide."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"Under Galbadian rule, Timber can flourish. It can thrive. It can finally become part of the world." That was it. He'd said enough. Rinoa was about to speak her mind, when she found herself silenced by the gloved hand of Squall.

"And forfeit all sense of freedom, right?"

"Freedom's overrated. You of all people should know that, Commander."

"I've made my choices, I can live with them. The people of Timber never had a choice. They didn't ask for the iron fist of Galbadia to be lodged in their faces. My contract with Rinoa's faction is still in effect. She is under my protection until this mess with the Sorceress is over. Until such time as she once again becomes an active priority. When that happens, I _will _complete my obligation to her. Timber _will _know liberation."

"We'll see about that."

"Maybe you're right," the brunet spoke, his eyes narrowed in distaste, "Under Galbadia, Timber would thrive, and all it would cost is their loyalty, right? Well, that and their values. Their beliefs and their principles."

"The Commander of Seed is lecturing _me_ on principles? Last time I checked, you didn't believe in _anything,_ or anyone. What the hell would you know about principles?"

The room fell silent. Rinoa's gaze tore between the two. The suspense thickened, it was suffocating. Rinoa thought she'd die before Squall spoke.

"Maybe so, but better for wisdom to come from the leading officer of a military organisation, than a preacher who failed the entrance exam."

Alex's eyes instantly hardened. What was it that etched so artistically into the crevices of his face? Was it… malice?

"You haven't heard the last of this, Leonheart," Alex spat, before turning and heading back the way he'd come.

"Whatever."

"What an ass," Selphie muttered, and Rinoa nodded her agreement.

"The bastard can't help himself," Squall mumbled, barely audibly, surprising everyone.

"Thanks, Squall," She breathed.

"Don't thank me," Squall replied. "Unlike him, my ranting's of truth, but it's still the pious ramblings of a pompous, would-be leader."

"You're not pompous, Squall. You're probably the one guy I've met here who isn't."

"Whatever. I'm out of here." Rinoa was amazed. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. She simply watched the young man as he walked away from her.

"Hey! You can't get away that easy!" Selphie protested, chasing after him. "Rinoa, go and get ready, and meet us in the cafeteria, 'kay?" Rinoa nodded. It was all she could do. She had not yet regained the ability to speak.

Snapping herself out of her current reverie, Rinoa remembered where she was. Like Squall, she had a job to do. More importantly, she had a party to go to.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go. This chapter was supposed to encompass the party, but I'll leave that for the next two. Chapter nine should be the last one. For the Hyne Mass arc, anyway. Then I'll take a break from this story and get back to Trial of the Flesh. Then Feeling Filthy, then The Unwanted, then I have a couple of Star Wars stories to work on, then I'll get back to my usual writing schedule, including Daddy's Disappointment.<strong>


	7. Hyne Mass part seven

**Hyne Mass  
>part seven<strong>

**Author's Notes: **This chapter may be somewhat uneventful, and it was slightly harder to write than the past few have been. Maybe you'll see what I mean.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Rinoa," the blonde admitted as her friend showcased yet another of her own outfits.<p>

"You know, Quistis, I asked your help for a reason. I thought you could help me."

"Well perhaps you asked the wrong person!" Quistis snapped, instantly lamenting losing her temper. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a party person. Perhaps Selphie could have been a bigger help."

"Selphie has her hands full," Rinoa morosely admitted, unable to hide her agreement.

"With what?"

"With Squall."

"Ah… well, what about this one," Quistis suggested, holding up yet another outfit. Rinoa took it and retreated once more into the privacy of the blonde's walk-in closet.

Watching herself in the mirror, Rinoa slipped off the yellow sun dress she'd been wearing, and replaced it with a vibrant, red, shoulderless gown that clung to her body and flowed down to the ground.

"Uh, Quistis?" she called out.

"Yes?" Rinoa twirled around in front of the large, body-sized mirror, examining every inch of her body in the gown.

"Do you have anything a little less… conservative?"

"Conservative?" Quistis asked, puzzled. That was, until Rinoa revealed herself.

Quistis raised a hand to her face to stifle a giggle.

"I'm sorry Rinoa, but that really doesn't suit you."

"Red's not my colour," the raven haired girl shrugged. "Got anything else?"

"Why don't you just wear what you wore last time?"

"What was that?"

"You know, at the Graduation Ball, when you danced with Squall."

"Hmm," Rinoa pondered. She _did_ have it with her. She'd worn it during the concert at FH. It had a kind of history with Squall, but could she get away with wearing the same dress on three different occasions? Did it matter? Or would the other SeeD members look down on her for doing so? "I guess I might have to," she conceded.

"Hold on," Quistis argued, entering the closet and browsing through the various garments. There weren't many, in all honesty, particularly to justify the closet space, but it was still a nice selection. "How about this?" Finding the one she wanted, she pulled it out and handed it to Rinoa.

Pulling the various garments off the hanger, Rinoa held them up, and Quistis helped her to put them on. They were a tight fit, being one size too small.

A dark red, mid-riff exposing halter-neck top, long black gloves, a black miniskirt, and matching leggings.

"Here," Quistis offered, holding up a pair of red high-heels.

"Quistis," Rinoa voiced in amazement, "I had no idea that you dressed like this. And you said you're not a party girl." Her lip curled upward. "Maybe I was wrong about you."

"I've never worn that," the blonde admitted. "You can keep it, if you like it." Rinoa accepted the shoes, looking at herself in the mirror. She could work with this. "Do you have these in black?"

"Yes, why?"

"Red's not my colour, like I said before."

"Sure," Quistis answered, trading a black pair of shoes for Rinoa's red one.

"I'll tell you what, Quistis. You can keep the skirt, the leggings, and the gloves."

"You just want the top?" asked a confused Quistis.

"And the shoes," Rinoa corrected.

"You sure that's all you want?" Rinoa offered the blonde a knowing grin.

"You'll see. Follow me to my room."

The pair of them quickly cleaned up the mess they'd made in Quistis' single Dorm room, still located up in the Instructor's Dormitory.

After leaving the room, Quistis locking the door behind her, the pair rode the elevator down to the slightly less extravagant, but equally luxurious Quest Quarters.

Riding the elevator car to Rinoa's room, they walked right on in.

"I don't think I've ever seen your room, Rinoa," Quistis announced as she looked around.

"No one has," Rinoa answered. "Well, Cid did send someone to show me the room, but other than that…" she trailed off, leaving the unnecessary portion of her sentence unfinished. Quistis nodded as she took in the décor.

The walls were an off-white with blue trim that matched the dark hue of the carpeted floor. Like all the guest rooms, Rinoa's was like the suite in a motel. There was a living area with sofa, armchairs, coffee table, and even a television. There were two other doors, and Quistis knew that these led to the bathroom and the bedroom. It was a common layout for all guest quarters.

"Wait here," Rinoa instructed as she crossed the floor and disappeared behind one of the doors.

In her bedroom, Rinoa walked around, past the single bed, to the closet in the far corner. Of course, it was nothing in comparison to the one in Quistis' room. Shrugging off the unfamiliar sensation of inferiority, Rinoa opened her closet and searched out the items of her usual outfit.

She pulled out the blue denim skirt, normally worn over her black shorts, and replaced it with the one she currently wore, the one belonging to Quistis.

Next, she stripped out of the black leggings and gloves, leaving only the black halter and her skirt, revealing her mid-riff, much of her legs, and almost all of her back. She eyed herself in the vanity mirror before reaching out to pick up various cosmetic products, selecting several in particular.

The girl took a brand new tube of lipstick, given to her as a prank gift, and guided it smoothly over her lips, giving them a unique, metallic blue shade. Once done, she stood still for a moment, unsure as to whether she should continue.

This was a new look for her. It was a very big risk. What would Squall say? Would he like it? Or was it too drastic a change? Rinoa sighed. She looked ridiculous.

"What was I thinking? I should never have done this."

"You're not going back now, are you Rinoa?" The raven haired girl spun around. She froze, her heart caught in her throat. She was as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Quistis stared wordlessly, unsure what else to say.

"Well?" the blue-lipped girl impatiently enquired.

"Well what?"

"I look pretty stupid, don't I?"

"Well…"

"Come on, let's hear it."

"It's certainly not a look I'd try to pull off."

"And it's not a look I should try to pull off, right?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Go ahead. I can't pull this off," Rinoa said gloomily. "I shouldn't even try. I look ridiculous."

"You've gone this far, you may as well take it all the way."

"But what if nobody likes it? What if they think I look stupid? What if they laugh at me?"

"When you say they, you mean him, right?" Quistis assumed. "Trust me, he won't. And as for the others? Their opinions don't matter. The only weight a stranger's opinion carries is the weight you give it."

"But what if –" Rinoa was silenced by a finger.

"Trust me," Quistis repeated. "Don't worry so much. You sound like Squall."

"Yeah right," the girl moped. "He doesn't worry… he doesn't care about anything at all." Rinoa's eyes widened. Why did she say that? She looked to Quistis. Their eyes met, briefly. The blonde's lip curled upward.

"Or so he would like everyone to believe. Here, let me help," she said, taking a tube of eyeliner from Rinoa's grasp.

When they were finished, Rinoa barely recognised herself. It certainly was a new look. In fact, her reflection was like nothing she'd ever seen, like nothing she could have imagined. The question was: what would everybody think?

Rinoa's lips had been brought out with a shade of metallic blue, enhanced by the black eyeliner and mascara, lengthening her lashes and further darkening her already dark eyes, contrasting with her naturally pale complexion, complete with a light covering of eye shadow the same shade as her lips.

On some, this would look utterly atrocious. On her… she didn't know. Did she pull it off? Or would her worst fear come true?"

She turned to Quistis, vulnerability shone in her eyes. "So," she asked, "how do I look?" Quistis slowly shook her head. That can't have been a good sign.

"I'm not the one you want to ask."


	8. Hyne Mass part eight

**Hyne Mass  
>part eight<strong>

**Author's Notes: **I know how epic the last chapter was. It doesn't get much more exciting than Rinoa getting dressed and putting on make-up, right? Well, hopefully this can compare. The first part of the party. There will probably be two more chapters after this one until the end of the party, and one more after that until the end of this arc.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>Beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

* * *

><p>The party was dragging on as they always did, not that I made a habit of attending these pointless occasions. I have better things to do with my time. Training, maintenance... To think: I could be on a mission right now. Any mission. Even if I had to fight the entire Galbadian army, and its General. Anything would be better than this.<p>

There's a sorceress out there. Matron. Edea Kramer. The headmaster's wife. The person now in charge of Galbadia. The Sorceress in control of the world's only other operational Garden. Perhaps fighting the entire army is not so far off.

We have a lead. Finally, we have a destination. Even if it doesn't help us find the enemy, maybe we can find clues as to why Matron would turn against Garden. It's better than nothing. We have somewhere to go. So why the hell have we anchored the Garden in northern Trabia!

Everybody here has forgotten their responsibilities. Classes have ended. Missions have ceased to flow within Garden, be they residential or global. As for the Headmaster, he seems to have disappeared completely. Even Doctor Kadawaki's office has closed.

My eyes narrow into a hate-filled scowl at the thought. I stand corrected. Of _course_ the Infirmary is closed. After all, it's _Hyne Mass Day!_ The most wonderful day of the year. The day that everyone can forget their responsibilities and just take the day off. Even Kadawaki is incapable of escaping this glorious fact. She can stand up to civil war, but she can't work through an international holiday. It's typical of mankind's attitude.

My hands ball into fists, tightening painfully, fingers ready to pierce through the skin of my palms.

I look about the room. The deafening music pounds throughout the room. I can feel it reverberate in my chest. The drinks have been out for a while now, as has the free food, if it can be called that.

Unlike the formal Balls and Garden Festivals, parties such as these have no rules. They were as close to anarchy as Garden ever came. Students and Cadets were considered to be Undergraduates. Therefore, they were not allowed, by academy regulations, to drink, but nobody cared. The sad truth was: this place had turned to hell since the Disciplinary committee deserted us to join with the Sorceress. Sure, that overzealous bastard Aki has stepped up to take Seifer's place, but what can one self-important Instructor do against so many undisciplined youths?

Everywhere I look, I see underage drunkenness. Tragic excuses for dancing. Activities best kept to the Secret Area, and other irresponsible shenanigans. It's hard to believe that this is known as the greatest academy in the world. I shake my head in disgust.

"Hey, Squall," I hear someone call out. I turn to face the distracting voice, and see them approach me. The petite brunette, Selphie, wearing her usual yellow microdress, and Irvine, also in his usual cowboy getup, although he's missing his ponytail, apparently opting to let his hair down today, and he seems to have misplaced his hat.

"Hey man," Irvine spoke, a champagne flute held in each hand. By the sound of his voice, he's already had quite a bit to drink. He hands me one of the crystal objects. "Lighten up, it's a party."

"I never would have guessed," I dryly remark, my voice easily drowned out by the so-called music pumping from the jukebox. Staring at the glass for a moment, I look away."

"C'mon, take it," the hatless cowboy insists.

I sigh. I don't drink, as a rule. Except on special occasions. Not wanting to create an unnecessary fuss, I accept the flute without a word and raise it to my lips. My brow furrows slightly at the unexpected taste. More bitter than I expected. Perhaps it's from a different vineyard than usual. For the second time, the Cafeteria workers' decisions have puzzled me.

I shrug away the thought as I swallow the clear, cool, sparkling liquid, the suspicions disappearing from my mind like the liquid down my throat.

"There ya go! That's what it's all about!" Selphie cheered. I shoot her a sideways glance before my attention is detracted by the loudest SeeD I know.

"Aw, C'mon!" he cried out, running from table to table, touching all the food. I shake my head at the sight. "What bastard ate all the hotdogs!"

"Were there any to begin with?" I mutter.

"I doubt it," Selphie responds. "The cafeteria said they'd offer free food. They never said anything about good food. Zell!" she calls out, waving to him, calling him over.

"Hold up!" the blond responds loudly. " I gotta get a hotdog first!"

"There aren't any!"

"Damn!" the blond exclaims. Bowing his head in sorrow, he slowly makes his way toward us. Anyone would think his dog had just been run down in the street. And they were saying that _I_ needed to grow up.

I drained my flute as Zell approached.

"Yo, Squall!" he greeted as if just noticing me. "So you decided to show up after all. I figured you would." He's making an excessive show out of looking left and right, craning his neck in order to do so. If his neck muscles weren't so strong, I'd accuse him of straining himself. "Where's Rinoa?" He asks.

"Not here," I reply.

"She's still getting ready," I hear Selphie clarify, though I'm not really paying much attention to the conversation at this point.

I've been here for two hours, and I'm bored. I've eaten nothing, and had one drink. I've talked to practically no-one, and I haven't heard a single good song on the jukebox. This night is turning out to be the epitome of everything I hate about parties.

I can't believe I've been here since four. Looking at my watch, I see the time. It's been two hours, and Rinoa hasn't even made an appearance, not that I've been waiting for her arrival or anything… Why did that thought even cross my mind?

I place my empty champagne flute on a nearby table, and another is immediately thrust into my hand. Who needs the drink servers at the graduation Ball with this kind of efficiency?

Even though I know what they're up to, I may as well. There's nothing better to do here. Shrugging off my inhibitions, I drink.

I put down my empty flute in time to see Zell's departure. He walks off, over in the direction of a group of girls I recognize from the Library. I watch them from where I am. They're talking about something, though I can't tell what.

Distracted by a poke in the ribs, I turn around.

"Check it out," I hear Irvine say to me. "Worth the wait, huh?"

Staring straight ahead, I see them approach. Two girls. The first is obviously Quistis, wearing a peach coloured sun dress. The other: I barely recognize as Rinoa. She looks completely different. The usual colours of black and blue graced her as always, but were implemented in such a different way. I can barely believe my eyes.

The outfit she now wears is much more revealing than I'd expect of her, showing off much of her pale skin, yet avoiding the cheapness of the plunging necklines on many of the cadet's invited guests.

The blues seem almost minimalist, but accent her perfectly. They almost seem to sparkle. It's a look that causes her to stand out in a way that I'd never have imagined. She looks completely different, so much so that I almost mistake her for someone else. She seems so unlike the girl who approached me and dragged me onto the dance floor those months ago, and yet the look works so well on her. I can hardly believe it.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor," Selphie teases. "You're starting to drool."

"Whatever," I say dismissively, brushing off the playful remark entirely, never once taking my gaze off Rinoa. Our eyes meet, and she offers me a nervous smile. From the distance, I can see her mild embarrassment, understandably caused by the outfit. Awkwardly, and timidly, she walks toward me, and despite my natural instincts, I'm unable to look away.


	9. Hyne Mass part nine

**Hyne Mass  
>part nine<strong>

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>Beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac.<p>

* * *

><p>There was certainly life to this party, but it really didn't seem like it had kicked in just yet.<p>

Sure, there was music, food, drinks… well; there was wine… not exactly the kind of drink Rinoa had expected when she heard the word party. The nightclubs of Deling City were filled with hard spirits and cocktails. In comparison, this seemed kind of weak.

It was a school after all, and a professional organisation, not to mention a military headquarters. Rinoa supposed that she couldn't expect too much. Despite her assurances, Selphie had let her down.

Oh well, she thought. At least the music was pumping. It had a pretty good rhythm, something she could dance to. She'd heard better. It wasn't the 'hard-core, three hundred beats per minute house music to ensure eventual deafness' that her friends would have at their parties, but it wasn't too bad.

Rinoa looked past the many dancers, searching for a familiar face. Where was Squall?

"Over there," Quistis spoke over the sound of the music, pointing them out to the dark haired girl. Selphie, Irvine, and Squall. It looked like Selphie had done a good job of keeping Squall tethered to the party after all.

Rinoa's eyes met with Squalls. He'd noticed her, but what did he think? Did he like her new look? Or did it appear tacky on her? She was sure he'd never tell her one way or the other. That was the thing with him. Both blessing and curse. He'd never tell her she looked awful, but he'd never come out and compliment her, either. She'd have to live without knowing his honest opinion.

There was no point in asking, she knew that much. Even so, Rinoa hoped that he liked it. Her lips pulled upward in a nervous smile. One that Squall did not match. It was disenchanting, but not unexpected. Did it mean anything, or was it just Squall being Squall?

Darn him. Squall had her thinking too much. He'd had that effect on her a lot lately. Ever since the six of them had split up after their daring prison escape. Squall had kept her close to him, taking her back to garden with he and Quistis. But what did that mean? Did he want her with him, or was he just keeping her out of the way?

Rinoa shook the harmful thoughts from her mind. There was no use in giving them the satisfaction of her attention. That was reserved for Squall. She needed a drink. And she needed to get several more drinks into the aloof brunet. That would get her mind of things. Her smile returned, and she began to walk toward the group, Quistis by her side.

Rinoa tried her best to ignore the other partygoers as she made her way over to where Squall was standing. Their eyes remained locked the entire time. She heard somebody call out to her, followed by several remarks and catcalls. It seemed that all formalities were off during parties.

Coming to a halt beside her friends, Rinoa looked to each of them in turn, before her eyes came to rest on Squall. "So?" she asked, "how do I look?"

The brunet eyed her wordlessly. Rinoa hadn't expected much from him, but the longer Squall stared at her, the more nervous she became. What did he think of her present appearance? Did he approve, or did he think of it as tacky?

Rinoa knew that it was a look that some guys would love, and all parents would hate. She knew that her father would hate it. But what about Squall? He wasn't like most guys their age. He was… making her anxious.

The suspense was killing her.

"Well?" she practically demanded.

Without a word, Squall reached for one of the many drinks lining the table and raised it to his lips.

Oh no, he was not getting away with that. The old 'stuff your face so you don't have to respond' routine. She was about to bring him down to her level when she was unexpectedly cut off. Just before he drank, Squall spoke. It was quiet. Barely audible above the sound of the music, but he'd said it, and Rinoa heard it. Three simple words, yet they meant to world to her.

"I like it."

The raven haired girl's face broke out in an unstoppable grin. After all that worry, all that bother, Squall agreed with her style of dress. Even the makeup she wore. All her uneasiness and tension. It was all for nothing. She had worried over nothing.

Still, it could have been worse.

"Hey, Rinoa! You finally made it," Zell proclaimed as he re-joined the group, his previous engagement seemingly over. "Whoa!" he cried unexpectedly upon catching sight of the girl's face. "You look good."

"See Rinoa," Quistis assured her. "You were worried over nothing at all."

"Yeah, it seems I was," the raven-haired girl replied.

"Worried about what?" Zell asked.

"She was worried that people would judge her choice of outfit," the blonde explained. "Rinoa was worried about what people would think of her. Of what Squall would think of her."

The Raven-haired girl looked away, catching a raised eyebrow from the aforementioned brunet.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Zell dismissed. "It's a party, right? This is the one day of the year when you can let loose."

"Is that why you were with those girls from the Library Committee?" Irvine asked, with a wink of his eye.

"Uh, you saw that!" The blond's embarrassment was obvious.

"It was hard to miss," Selphie shrugged.

"Uh, yeah… You had a drink Rinoa?" Zell asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

"I just got here," the girl confessed.

"Here," the blond replied, quickly remedying the problem by thrusting a flute into the girl's hand, before taking one for himself. Thankfully, the nearby table was riddled with them.

"So, you guys wanna dance?" Rinoa asked.

"You asking permission?" Irvine teased, "Or is that an invitation?"

"I dunno. I just figured…" Rinoa trailed off, her eyes shifting over to Squall.

"I'll pass," the brunet drawled, sensing where she was going with her fractured statement.

"Killjoy," Rinoa accused.

"You want to dance?" Zell asked, "Okay, yeah. Let's go."

"Just us two?"

"Sure, let's get away from these bastards," Zell said, downing his flute and dragging Rinoa away by the arm.

"Ah… okay," Rinoa said, following along, not that she had a choice in the matter, what with the tightness of Zell's grip on her. Downing her drink in one gulp, she stumbled along behind him.

"That's champagne they're drinking," Squall noted. "It's not supposed to be skulled. They're acting like a couple of alcoholics."

"Like you're one to talk," Selphie laughed. Squall narrowed his eyes and shot a glare in her direction.

"She's right," Irvine defended. "You _have_ been kinda been throwing it back tonight."

What the hell was their problem? They all wanted Squall intoxicated by the night's end. They were merely getting their wish. They all thought he'd be more fun if they got him drunk. Their plan was as obvious as it was foolish.

Besides, if Squall were forced to endure the atrocity of this party on today of all wretched days, he'd not do it sober.

What was their problem? He was here. Wasn't that enough? Why did they have to make things so damn hard?

Squall's glare hardened. "Whatever," he spat.


	10. Hyne Mass part ten

**Hyne Mass  
>part ten<strong>

**Author's Notes: **Huh… turns out it was the 666th Necrophiliac's birthday yesterday… and I had a burrito!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VIII  
>Beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

* * *

><p>My eyes narrow. What is it to them? They want me to drink, I'm drinking. I'm only giving them what they want. Why do they have to give me such a hard time about it? I don't even want to be here. That I'm even present is a big compromise on my part. What do they want from me?<p>

"Forget about them," Quistis advised, taking a flute of her own.

"Hey, I'm just saying…" Selphie adamantly replied, quite unapologetically.

I shake my head. I'm doing what she wants. She dragged me here. Her objective is to keep me here and get me drunk. It's obvious. It's what they all want. Rinoa had just as good as admitted it earlier.

"They look good together." Irvine's comment grabs my attention. I look up to see him nodding in the direction of Rinoa and Zell, dancing together to some fast-paced electronica music. Being unfamiliar as I am, the music itself is completely unknown to me.

"Jealous?" the brunet asks, attempting to gain my attention. More likely, he's trying to provoke me.

"Not really," I reply, continuing to watch the two as they move. A fast paced movement for a fast-paced rhythm. People call this dancing together, despite the absence of physical contact. The reality is: they are dancing in close proximity. Nothing like the dance Rinoa and I shared at the Graduation Ball, but I'm not complaining. As long as I'm not out there, and as long as I'm not the centre of attention, I have no reason to worry. Let those two embarrass themselves. I don't care, and why should I?

Let them have their fun. Let them make fools of themselves. Let them work up a sweat. It's not my problem.

Come to think of it, they could probably use the exercise. Training regimes have become rather lax as of late.

"You're jealous," Irvine mockingly assumes. I shake my head. "Don't deny it."

"Whatever." The cowboy's teasing isn't worth my time. I look about the room to see what exactly the populace find so appealing about these parties of theirs.

More atrocious dancing. Many underage students propped up against the wall in drunken passion, committing that which anywhere other than within garden would be considered rape.

Wait a minute… where are the adult staff? The faculty were disposed of after their coup, but what of the adult SeeD members? It seems like Xu is the oldest one here. And she can't be much older than Twenty….

Now it hits me. The majority here are cadets and underclassmen. Where is everybody? It's plain to see that members of SeeD don't generally live long lives. Still, there are usually several older members of SeeD hanging around the Garden on stand-by at any one time.

Either way, it doesn't really matter now. It's not important. I turn back to Zell and Rinoa and see them in the same place they were moments ago.

"Feeling left out, Squall?" Selphie asks me.

"No," I honestly reply. I continue to watch them. Why should I feel anything from this? They're two friends dancing next to one another.

"Why don't you go out there and dance with Quistis?" Irvine suggested. A stupid proposal, naturally. If I didn't care to dance with one person, why would I want to with another?

"I can't dance," I reply, shaking my head.

"Yes, and I'm sure you said that to Rinoa last time," the blonde accused.

"C'mon Quistis, you gotta just drag him by the arm. That's what Rinoa would do."

"It's alright," the blonde declined, this isn't really my kind of music. I'll stay here."

"Okay," the brunette dismissed with a shrug. "We're going out there." The pair walk over to where Zell and Rinoa are dancing and join in, clearly not seeking an invitation.

"Have fun," Quistis calls out to them as they depart, returned only by a backhanded wave by the newly formed couple as they walk away, their backs to us, leaving Quistis and I alone together.

The two of us, the blonde ex-instructor and myself. This reminds me of awkward situations in the past. Failed conversations and awkward silences.

"She looks good, doesn't she?" I hear Quistis ask over the din of music. I turn to her, an eyebrow raised.

"Rinoa. She was so worried that you weren't going to like her appearance." I turn away, looking back to the raven-haired girl. Right now, at this moment, she looks so carefree. Like a bird souring amongst the clouds. She was concerned? If so, she's hidden it well.

Another question bubbles up within me. Why would Rinoa be concerned? She doesn't strike me as someone who worries about anything. She never has. I turn back to face Quistis once again.

"Why?" I finally ask, voicing my confusion.

"She wanted you to like her outfit. She wants your approval.

"She was probably just fishing for complements," I state dismissively.

"No," Quistis shakes her head. "That's not it. She cares about what you think of her. More so than anyone else." My eyes instinctively narrow.

"Why me?" The blonde sighs.

"If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm not going to tell you." I pick up another Champagne flute and raise it to my lips. Allowing a small amount of liquid to seep through, I swallow.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"You really don't understand women at all, do you Squall? I release a sigh. So it's come to that. I knew it would be something like that. Quistis may well speak the truth. The truth is: I _do_ know nothing of the inner-workings of the minds of the opposite sex. Nor have I ever wanted to know. What purpose would it serve to know such things? My speciality is with Gunblades and battle tactics. I know how to fight. I can analyse a battlefield and take the best course to achieve my objective. I can defend someone from an entire platoon of hostile troops, and I can quickly dispatch target after target in an onslaught of monsters.

Thoughts and feelings. Relationships and the female mind. These are things that belong in Irvine's department, and he is welcome to them. Not wanting this conversation to continue, I take a drink from my freshly acquired flute. How many drinks have I had now? Three? Four? Five?

It strikes me that I've lost count. Who cares anymore? After all, I need something to get me through this incorrigible bastard of a night.

I don't like this discussion. I don't like where it's going. I don't like this unfamiliar territory. I'd sooner fight an entire war singlehanded.

"You're hopeless, Squall," Quistis jokingly mocks.

"Whatever."

The conversation is over. Once again, I drink.

I know that at this rate, inebriation is only an inevitable stop around the next bend, but right now I couldn't care less. I'll deal with that when it happens. They want me to loosen up. This is the only way. I'm not comfortable with the prospect, but if it happens, it happens. I'll deal with the repercussions tomorrow, if there are any.

It occurs to me that perhaps intoxication is already closer than I might think, but I no longer care. Tomorrow seems like something so far away. Lost in the distance, at the end of a never-ending road. For now, I drink.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh dear… I do hope that Squall doesn't become an alcoholic because of this. There has been a bit of a delay. I haven't been writing every day lately. Also, I had no idea what to do for this chapter. The only concept I had was for Squall to watch Rinoa and Zell dancing. That was it. Anyway, hopefully the next chapter won't take long.<strong>

**I have about half(?) of it done now. It should be up hopefully at least by Tuesday.**


	11. Hyne Mass part eleven

**Hyne Mass  
>part eleven<strong>

**Author's Notes: **I had hoped to get this done sooner… no matter.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VIII… or waffles.

* * *

><p>"Nah, the make-up looks great on you," the young man said. Rinoa couldn't contain her smile. The girl's cheeks flushed. He was actually rather charming, and he was pretty nice to look at, actually. Blue eyes, short blonde shaggy hair. The way he spoke reminded her a little of Seifer. He seemed to like her. Maybe this guy would make a better companion, since Squall had never once shown an interest in her outside of their business relationship of mercenary and client. Sure, Squall would protect her from physical assault, but he'd never once said a single kind word to her. He barely spoke to her at all. And even then, only when she approached him first.<p>

"I don't think I've seen you here before," the young man said. "Are you a new cadet?"

"No, I'm here from Timber."

"Timber? What? Are you an Upperclassman or something?"

"No… I'm not a student, but I am living here."

"Huh… why?"

"I was involved in… something that went wrong. I hired SeeD to liberate Timber from the Galbadian army. Now I need to stay away until things cool down."

"Got it," the blond remarked. "You're that cute girl that hangs around with Leonheart, right?"

"Yeah, that's me," Rinoa confirmed with a grin, accepting the compliment without question.

"Why do you hang around with _him_?"

"Well, my contract is kind of with him personally. He's still acting under my orders… I think."

"That doesn't mean you have to follow the depressive leather fetish guy around like a lovesick puppy. Why don't you hang with me?" Rinoa's smile began to falter. Even if he were right, Rinoa knew she shouldn't let this guy slander Squall's name like that.

Nobody had that right. Not behind his back, anyway.

"He's not that bad, once you get to know him," Rinoa assured the blond. "I think I'll stick by him for now. The SeeD working for me have become my friends, but you're welcome to join our group, if you want."

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen." Rinoa's eyes narrowed distastefully.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's it?"

"Because he's a bore, okay! I don't know what you see in him. He's gay, anyway."

"Wow," Rinoa spoke, taken aback by the outburst. "Where did that come from?"

"Sorry, but you seem to be fascinated with the guy. Stick with him and you'll only wind up disappointed. That goes for Instructor Trepe, too. Trust me –"

"Oh Hyne, you're not one of those Trepies, are you?" Rinoa asked, eying the young man up suspiciously. "I've been told all about you."

"No, I'm not one of them. But trust me. Whatever you think of him, he's not worth it."

"What's your problem with Squall, Anyway?"

"Let's just say he's not exactly popular in my circle."

"So what are you then?" Rinoa asked, in an attempt to change the subject. "Are you a SeeD?"

"No. I'm an Upperclassman."

"So you're just a regular student then." This guy didn't seem very superior to Garden's Commander, whatever he thought of himself.

"For now, but I'm signing on as a cadet once I graduate as a Classman."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. You?"

"Seventeen. But aren't you a little old to become a cadet?"

"Maybe, but this way I'll already have my civilian secondary school-level qualification."

"That makes sense… Are you going to become a SeeD?"

"Maybe."

"Isn't the SeeD exam difficult? What if you can't pass?" the blond smirked in a familiarly arrogant fashion.

"Don't worry; I'll be sure to pass it on my first try."

"And if you can't?" Rinoa smugly questioned.

"If Squall Leonheart passed it on his first try, so can I."

"Seifer failed it three times," Rinoa argued.

"True, but Seifer was a moronic hot-head. I, on the other hand, can follow orders to the letter."

"But what if you don't pass? Aren't you cutting it a little close?"

"Perhaps. Garden does release its cadets at the age of twenty. If that happens, I'll simply transfer into the Galbadian Army."

"If you want to be a soldier, why finish your studies as a civilian?"

"It may seem strange, but I have my own personal reasons. Also, I can't run around the battlefield forever, now. Can I? The Garden Classman Diploma is rather prestigious, and with it, I can migrate comfortably into civilian life after I retire from Military duty."

"You think that'll be enough?"

"You're not very familiar with the influence of a certificate from Garden, are you? Garden graduates always become officers in the military. It's the same in business, or whatever other field I might choose. Trust me. It'll be enough. But enough about that. What do you say we talk about something a little more interesting?"

"Such as?" The blond smirked.

"Come on, now. You can't expect me to have _all_ the answers, can you?"

"Well, what do you suggest?" Rinoa asked, beginning to feel awkward. This conversation was heading south.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe if you come walk with me, I'll think of something."

"Well, actually, I'm kind of comfortable here."

"Don't be such a bore. It won't take long." The blond slipped his arm around the girl's shoulder and slowly began steering her away."

"I don't think that's a good idea." The pair looked over to the source of the intrusion, coming to a halt. "I suggest you leave us, and get back to your associates."

"Whatever you say, _Commander,_" the blond conceded. "If you change your mind, come and find me," he offered the raven haired girl before silently backing away.

"Squall," the girl voiced.

"Before you ask, I heard your entire conversation."

"You were there the whole time?" Squall nodded.

"I should probably apologise, but I don't want you hanging around with that guy."

"Oh yeah?" Rinoa's lip curled in a grin. "Any particular reason why?"

"I don't like that guy, or his friends. And I don't trust them around you." Rinoa's grin widened. This was getting interesting.

"And why is that?"

"Your contract is still in effect, even if we cannot at this point in time act on it. It's my job to keep you safe. An impossible feat if you insist on hanging around with the zealots." Rinoa's grin suddenly dropped.

"That's it? That's the only reason–" Rinoa suddenly stopped, mid-tirade. "Oh, I get it." Squall was hiding his true feelings again, like he did in FH. Like he always did. Rinoa had been around Squall long enough to pick up on his particular quirks. She knew him too well to be fooled the way she was in the beginning. She could see right through him, and his feigned apathy. "You're hiding behind that again." Squall raised an eyebrow. "It's okay, I know you. I know the truth."

"And that would be?"

"I'm not telling!"

"What–"

"Whatever! That's what you were about to say, right?" Squall narrowed his eyes at the girl's childishness, though found himself unable to condemn her for it. It was almost endearing, though he'd never admit it out loud.

"You know, your friend is Alexander's personal bitch."

"Really? Alex seemed kind of disturbing. That guy was actually pretty charming." Rinoa took a strange form of pleasure from the expression that graced Squall's face, though it lasted only a moment, and then it was gone.

"His followers don't need to act like him to be zealous, fanatical sheep."

"I guess not…"

"Zell is nothing like me, and he'd probably do anything I ask."

"You've got that right." Squall had a point. He and Zell were polar opposites.

"Raijin and Fujin aren't like Seifer."

"I guess not."

"The Faculty weren't much like Norg."

"Okay, you've made your– wait… that one doesn't make sense. They were exactly like Norg, weren't they?"

"Honestly… I don't know." Rinoa broke into laughter.

"Don't let the others catch you talking crap like that… so, that guy was one of the religious nuts? Is that why you don't want me hanging out with them?"

"Something like that."

"Humph. I'm a little disappointed, Squall." The brunet looked away. "Don't worry. I wasn't planning on going with him anyway." Squall allowed a silence to pass over them.

"Guess I wasn't needed."

"No, I'm glad you came. Thanks for the save." Rinoa stepped closer and wrapped herself around Squall's right arm, in a sort of awkward embrace.

"What are you doing?" the brunet asked.

"I looked all over the place for you, you know that?" Rinoa spoke, her voice quiet, only just bobbing above the volume of the music like an artificial fly bobbing on the surface of a lake. Squall remained silent. "Where were you?"

"Here…"

"Wow, helpful. Oh well, you've got me for the night."

"What?" Squall's bewildered response struck Rinoa as cute. Despite the tough façade, right now, with enough liquor flowing through him to lower his guard, with his defences lowered and his vulnerabilities on display, he was adorable. He'd probably hate her forever if she said anything.

"Well, you chased away my only other companion, so you'd better look after me all night. I'm counting on you."

"In other words. You want me to keep you upright and be your crutch while you get drunk off your ass."

"Something like that." Squall released a sigh.

"Fine. I can handle that."

"Wow, that was easy… you know I was just joking, right?

"Whatever." Rinoa sighed in disappointment.

"You're no fun."

"Oh well, you're stuck with me for the night." Rinoa's lip curled upward.

"Then again, I could be wrong.

* * *

><p><strong>I had to rewrite the ending of this one twice. It wasn't turning out the way I'd planned. Normally, I just go with it when this happens, but this time I wanted to stick with my original plan. I may upload an alternate version of this chapter. I'll probably call it 11.1 or something. Oh, and for those who haven't yet figured it out, I use SeeD as both plural and singular, like Jedi, and Samurai, and Ninja, and Pikachu. (the usual examples as per my standard.)<strong>


	12. Hyne Mass part twelve

**Hyne Mass**

**Author's Notes: **Let me apologise for the delay. I've had this drafted for a few days now, but never got around to checking it. First of all, the laptop I normally use has been sent off to get the DVD drive fixed, so I've resorted to sharing the eight year old Toshiba in the meantime. Also, I recently got back into playing Soul Calibur 3, and am thusly once again interested in my unborn, foetus of an original story about the characters I created for Chronicals of the Sword. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantassy VIII  
>Beta-read by the 666th Necrophiliac<p>

* * *

><p>here goes another one. This place is overcrowded, but perhaps not for much longer. These young students are dropping like flies. Some passing out, others rushing off to Dorm rooms, or the training Centre. And I can guess that they're not going there for the monsters.<p>

The music continues to pump. But strangely, it almost seems to have improved, or perhaps I'm simply not as bothered by it as I once was. The room is slowly beginning to thin out. It's almost pleasant without everyone else here.

Even Rinoa leaning against me isn't bothering me as much as it should. My inebriation is clear, as is its impairing effect on my judgement.

Zell was dragged off earlier, by the librarians again. I don't know where they took him, but they've left the room. And I don't particularly agree with Irvine's theory. Speaking of which, the cowboy should be around here somewhere…

Now Quistis has been dragged off by the three leading members of her very own fanclub:  
>The Stalking Committee… formally known as the Trepies. I'm mildly familiar with all three of them. All were Cadets and took the written exam with me. An egotistical female with short brown hair, a girl with long brown hair fashioned in a ponytail, and a hopeless, dark skinned young man who's failed every test he's been given, to my knowledge at least. I've been unfortunate enough to have had to deal with them in the past. They were involved with that fake Triple Triad fiasco, circulating fake cards depicting the ex-Instructor's visage.<p>

I'm surprised the three of them managed to pass the entrance exam. They're impossibly dense, and they almost never take no for an answer. I caught the blonde sending me a pleading look.

She was practically begging for help, but I had my hands full. That's the benefit of having Rinoa so close. Quistis is on her own this time. She can deal with those three by herself.

"You know, you… probably should have gone after her," Rinoa chastises, slurring slightly.

"But then who would keep you upright?" I dryly retort.

"Come on, I haven't drank that much!" She indignantly protests, her gaze not faltering at my raised eyebrow. To cement my point, I step away from her and smirk in amusement.

Unprepared for the sudden movement, Rinoa loses balance, waving her arms about in distress, her mind utterly disoriented. The unfortunate girl cried out, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to stabilize herself.

I step forward and grab her by the shoulders before she hurts herself, securing and relaxing her. Holding her by the shoulder, I walk her over to a nearby table and sit her down.

"I rest my case. Without me, you'd have fallen flat on your face. I assume you realise that."

"Shut up," Rinoa responds in the manner of a sulking child, reaching for another drink.

"As if you weren't hard enough to deal with right now," I comment, not that I mind, really. Although I've had to ward off several drunk Cadets, lest Rinoa's intoxicated mind become impressed by some cretin's scatterbrained advances. It's a sad day when Irvine Kinneas is the least of a girl's worries.

I don't have to be so protective, I suppose. I could simply dump Rinoa on the next guy to make eyes at her and be done with it. My problems would be over, but if I'm here to take care of her, I may as well do the job properly and make sure she doesn't do anything she's likely to regret in the morning. I may be making myself out to be a killjoy, but at least it's better than having everyone else trying to get me drunk.

Besides, Rinoa's current demeanour is actually quite enjoyable… not that she'll ever hear it from me.

"You drink too much," I offhandedly comment, my words stopping the champagne flute in its tracks, if only momentarily.

"Like you can talk," Rinoa argued, lifting the flute to her lips and draining it in one swallow. What should have been a glare became a smirk, and I drained a flute for myself, instantly noticing the taste. Different, and much less bitter than before. Altogether more pleasant.

My brows furrow and my eyes narrow. "This…" I falter in my question, thinking of how awkward it must sound. I shake my head, shake it away. "Never mind." Rinoa tilts her head at me.

"Go on," she offers, lending her ear.

"Does this taste different to you?" Rinoa pauses for the moment, and I turn away. It was a stupid question after all. And irrelevant. I wouldn't have answered it myself.

"Actually, yeah. It's lighter." I arch my eyebrow at the girl's choice of phrase.

"Lighter?"

"Mn, hmn," Rinoa responds affirmatively, nodding her head. "It's not as strong as the stuff you were drinking." Not as strong? Rinoa… what do you mean. Why would the flutes over there be filled with a stronger batch? I don't understand.

Is that why it tasted different than usual? Because it was stronger? I thought it was simply from a different Vineyard. We usually import wine from Dollet. Perhaps this was all set up on purpose, to… get me drunk.

Of course, what else could it have been? I shouldn't be surprised. That was their plan all along, wasn't it? But how did you know that, or were you in on it all along, in on it with them. Simply a part of their plan. A pawn, just like me…

"Problem?" she asks so innocently, though I can't be certain of her sincerity, for obvious reasons.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"About these drinks being different. About the others being stronger." Suddenly, Rinoa's dark eyes light up. Her entire face breaks into a grin.

"That's for me to know," she teases. Sitting a little closer, Rinoa rests her head upon my shoulder. I find her proximity uncomfortable, but I'm just drunk enough to stop myself from pushing her away. This is my mission after all. To keep her safe. To keep her close by. I have a job to do. And if this is the cost of doing that job… I'd be foolish to complain. I know things could be much worse.

Rinoa begins to lightly giggle. The softest strands of black hair brush against my ear, and her voice sounds. Speaking softly, sweetly. The kind of scene which would ordinarily sicken me, yet the alcohol flooding my system won't let me be. This isn't me. I'm not acting like myself. I don't understand it. This is like a dream. The room is spinning, and I'm loosing myself.

I feel something almost akin to contentment amongst the bewildering madness. I can't control myself, any of this. I'm loosing it. I'm losing control of my mind, my senses, of everything. And then she speaks. Her voice so soft, yet powerful enough to penetrate even my thick skin, and to impregnate my core.

"You will never know."

The room is spinning. Everything goes dark, and I am alone in the pitch black. If any of this is real, then I am insane.

Entrapped within the darkness, Rinoa's laugh is the last thing I hear.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there you go. Hope it was worth the wait. Understandable scene transition, or nasty cliffhanger? You decide. I may take a break from this story now and go back to Trial of the Flesh. I'm not one hundred percent decided just yet. This arc only has a couple of chapters to go, anyway. Either way, thanks for reading, and thank you to everyone who reviewed. I appreciate it, and keep those comments comming.<strong>


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